


Memorable Impressions

by mia6363



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Amnesia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 09:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia6363/pseuds/mia6363
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He opened his mouth because, of course, he knew his name— but when he went to go find his name, he came up with nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memorable Impressions

He woke up, and the first thing he noticed was how strange the sensation to… wake up was. The way his eyelids felt heavy and his mouth was dry, it didn’t spell out anything good. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, a few bones in his back popping. His right arm throbbed painfully and he looked down to see an IV in his arm. 

Panic flooded him as he ripped the needle out of his arm, scratching at the wound in a desperate attempt to rid himself of whatever had been pumped into his body. He was lightheaded, his legs weak as he got a look at his surroundings, the windowless room with wallpaper that was wet and torn in some places. The single bulb in the light flickered and when he tried to open the door, it was locked.

His heart thudded in his chest and he looked down at his arms. They were covered in tattoos of strange beasts, but they were also skinny. When he pinched the skin, it took a while to fall back into place. Severe dehydration. 

Gunshots roared and he scrambled away from the door, hitting the ground painfully, almost knocking his glasses off his face. The door rattled on its hinges, shouts coming from the other side. He squeezed his eyes shut because obviously he was going to die, this was the end—and finally the door splintered under the pressure. He silently begged for his life, tears sliding down his cheeks.

A woman’s voice made him open his eyes. She had a shaved head and intense eyes and she spoke to him quickly, in English, and she was talking too fast for him to understand her. He held up his hands, shaking, and that was when a man with a cane walked in the room.

“Newton? Newt?” He hobbled quickly and fell before him in a way that must have hurt his leg. The man’s hands squeezed his shoulders. He was talking fast in English and it wasn’t until he started pleading in German that the man seemed to get the picture. _“Newton, are you okay? Say something.”_

Finally, there was someone who spoke his language. He almost smiled he was so relieved. 

_“Who are you? Where am I?”_

The man with the cane stilled, his already fair face becoming even paler. The others in the room, the lady with the shaved head—they fell silent too as the man with the cane spoke slowly. 

_“My name is Hermann Gottlieb. Do you know who you are?”_

He opened his mouth because, of course, he knew his name—but when he went to go find his name, he came up with nothing. His lungs froze because what kind of weirdo doesn’t know their own name? What was being pumped into his body? Who was he? Did he have amnesia? Oh God, oh God—

“Breathe, Newt, breathe, you’re all right.” The good thing, apparently, about having a panic attack was that English wasn’t so hard to decipher anymore. Hermann hugged him, his hand stroking down his back. “You’re safe now.”

The only reason he believed Hermann was because of the way Hermann’s fingers dug into his (Newton’s, apparently his name was Newton) shirt. How he fell so quickly to his knees even though that had to hurt him. Newton helped Hermann up and the woman with the shaved head stared at the two of them briefly before whipping out a phone, speaking in clipped Chinese. 

::::

The woman gave Newton a compact mirror while they rode in the car back to… somewhere. She glared at the other thugs as she gave it to Newton, like she was daring them to remark, and Newton just squinted into the mirror. 

Sweet Jesus, he was… he was _old_. Not like, old-old, but he was starting to go grey at the temples. He had _crows-feet_. Newton kept pushing his fingers against the grey in his hair, like maybe if he pulled it enough, it would go back to brown. Hermann watched him, his own old eyes tight at the corners. Newton blinked. 

“What happened to my eye?” Newton tugged at the skin under his left eye because it was red—his eye was red and Newton had a feeling his eye wasn’t supposed to be like that. He looked over at Hermann and his eyes widened. “Holy shit, yours is like that, too!”

Hermann got this weird, weary smile on his face. It made Newton feel old, really old. 

“A long time ago… you and I helped save the world.” 

Newton went back to looking at himself, at the red eye. 

“Huh. Neat.” So many questions buzzed in his head, but he knew that he needed to filter some out; he needed a basic outline of his life… of who he was before he moved forward. “I, uh, do I have a girlfriend?” Hermann’s smile was gone as Newton went on. “Boyfriend? Wife? Husband?” 

Silence filled the car and Newton realized that all the thugs were staring at him. The lady’s eyes were so piercing and she looked afraid. 

Hermann swallowed and his face looked like the taste was bad. Newton forced himself not to be distracted by all the colorful lights (holy shit where they in _Hong Kong_ ) because he needed to know. He looked down at his hands—there was no ring, he absently touched his ring finger on his left hand. He didn’t know if that was a relief or disappointing. Herman blew out a long breath.

“You’re… _involved_ with a dangerous man.” 

Laugher bubbled out of Newton’s lips because—come on. He saw his reflection; he was a dork in glasses with some baby fat. His thoughts never quieted, he had to forcibly swallow thousands of questions because he needed to take it slow. But him, being “involved” with a criminal? Yeah right. Hermann’s scowl deepened and Newton hiccupped.

“Oh. You weren’t joking.” 

Hermann rolled his eyes. 

“Of course you would think that I would joke with a person suffering from amnesia, for God’s sake, Newton.” Hermann leaned in close, lowering his voice to a whisper so that the woman with the scared eyes couldn’t hear him. “I’m not joking, Newton, his name is Hannibal Chau and he’s a—well, he… he’s a major figure in the Hong Kong black market and—”

“And I’m his _boyfriend_?” 

Newton’s voice cracked on the word. Hermann pinched the bridge of his nose like he was annoyed. Newton almost opened his mouth to tell him that it wasn’t Newton’s fault that he was drugged into losing all his memories, turning him into the blankest of blank slates. 

His blood went cold soon after because… what if it had been Newton’s fault? If he was apparently “involved” with this mysterious Hannibal Chau figure—well, maybe something like being drugged and losing all his memories came with the territory. He swallowed and the chuckle that escaped his lips was high-pitched and hysteric. 

“Maybe… maybe me losing my memories and all that, maybe that was his way of breaking up with me, you know? Like, you don’t even have to deal with all the awkwardness if they can’t remember anything, you know?”

Hermann’s hands tightened on his cane and his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“If that’s the case, I’ll kill him.”

Hermann didn’t look like he was in any shape to kill anyone, not even a fly. He could be a teacher, maybe an old grumpy grandpa, but not a murderer. The sentiment was nice, Newton supposed. It was nice to know that he apparently had a friend. 

It suddenly struck Newton how… how alone he was. If Hermann was lying (Newton didn’t think he was, but anything was possible), then Newton was really screwed. Where did he come from? Why was he in Hong Kong when it looked like he should be hanging out in a basement with some fellow nerds playing D&D? Where were his parents? Did he still have parents?

The car rocked to a stop before Newton could ask any of those questions. Instead, they tightened around his throat like a giant fist. It was hard to breathe and he was being helped/pulled out of the car by the woman. Her hands were rough and Newton shivered because it was chilly and they were outside of a bustling street—and that was when he saw him.

A tower of a man with blonde hair and dark glasses. He wore a crimson suit with hints of gold and where he walked, people seemed to ripple out of his way. But Newton could tell the guy was Caucasian, possibly American or European. Maybe this guy was Chau’s right hand man. 

“Sweet Jesus, kid—” 

Ah, American. Newton opened his mouth to ask him if he knew Hannibal Chau—when the guy’s massive hands were on his shoulders. They trembled, so slightly that Newton wouldn’t have known if they weren’t touching him. His eyes widened because _whoa_ , what was going on? The guy, he was so _big_ , was leaning down, and _whoa okay_ , he was totally kissing Newton. Newton made a strangled noise of surprise and jerked back. 

Not that he was against kissing as a whole, as an idea, as a practice—but apparently he was “involved” with Hannibal Chau and he didn’t think some weird American dude kissing him would be viewed as okay in Hannibal’s eyes. 

The American frowned and looked strangely off balance, bending down but not wanting to straighten himself even though Newton was still backing away. Hermann and the lady with the shaved head began talking loudly at once, one in English, and the other in Chinese. The big guy finally straightened up and held up his hand. The woman fell silent while Hermann only spoke louder.

“—lost all his memory, probably because whoever drugged him was trying to get at _you_ —”

“What?” The man in the dark glasses growled, and Newton was a coward because he was basically hiding behind Hermann at this point. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” 

Hermann lifted his chin, unafraid, and seriously Newton owed Hermann a lot already and he’d only known him for about a half an hour. 

“When we found him he was malnourished and dehydrated, and also…” Hermann paused and his lip quivered. “He can’t remember anything.”

Silence drifted between all of them. Newton felt like he should apologize even though it was clearly not his fault that people decided to drug him. Because the American… he was so quiet and still, his fists clenched and those knuckles looked like they knew how to hit a man so hard they prayed for death. The woman spoke, quietly, and the American shook his head, making her fall silent. 

It was only when Newton started to shiver, his teeth chattering, that the American turned to him. 

“Come on, let’s get everyone inside for some food.” 

He turned quickly and Hermann nodded, and once Newton had Hermann’s little okay, he followed the rest of them into the building. 

::::

Lavish didn’t even begin to describe the interior. Newton wondered if this was Hannibal’s place. The American had hot rolls stuffed with pork waiting and the smell almost made Newton’s knees buckle, they smelled so delicious. He bit into them, looking around as the American and Hermann spoke in dark, low tones. 

Newton ran his fingers over the marble and wood edges. He thought that maybe touching an object in a place where he’d been would trigger his memories to return. It didn’t work and he sighed, looking out of the window at Hong Kong. 

“Is Hannibal here?” Newton turned, awkwardly wringing his hands. “I mean, someone should say that his…” Newton didn’t know if it was appropriate to say boyfriend, squeeze, or acquaintance. “Me—that I have brain problems now.” Hermann had a pinched look on his face and Newton shrugged. “Someone should tell him, right?”

“I got the memo.” The American spoke up. “I’m Hannibal Chau, kid.”

Newton’s eyebrows shot up and he started laughing. He knew it wasn’t really nice, to laugh in the face of the mobster that probably didn’t anticipate dealing with an amnesiac. Newton felt the laughter getting hysteric and he knew that if he didn’t stop he’d begin to hyperventilate. He swallowed it down, the panic bubbled up, and took a deep breath, wiping his eyes. 

“Sorry. It’s just,” Newton’s hands shook as he took a bite of the roll so that he didn’t start laughing again, “that’s a goofy name.” 

He ate one roll and then realized that both Hannibal and Hermann were staring at him, Hermann looking like he wanted to take Newton to a doctor while Hannibal—well, Newton couldn’t tell because he couldn’t see Hannibal’s eyes, but he still knew he was being stared at. Watched. Newton swallowed, because he wished he could remember and not… have them stare at him.

Newton rubbed his arms even though he wasn’t cold, somehow he couldn’t stop shivering. 

“So, how did I help save the world?” 

Hermann sighed as Hannibal dug his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels—and were his shoes _gold_? Hermann’s drawl dragged Newton’s attention back away from Hannibal’s feet. 

“You’ve actually written a book on the experience.”

Newton’s eyes widened.

“I did?”

“Yeah.” 

Hannibal’s growly response made Newton jump. “It’s in the bedroom.” And oh _yeah_ , apparently Newton and Hannibal were _involved_. They had a bedroom. Hannibal turned to the wall and punched in a code. The wall dropped away as gears turned and the walls were opening up to reveal—well, a bedroom. Newton’s eyes were wide as Hermann turned away, like his proper upbringing demanded that he give Hannibal his privacy. 

The inside… was gorgeous. 

Arched, high ceilings with paintings hanging off the walls made Newton spin slowly as he tried to take in the entire picture. The floor was tile, more marble, and the bed was huge, at least a California king. The sheets were silk, Newton’s fingers dragging across them. He brought them up to his nose—and the crazy thing was he could _smell_ himself on it, as well as something darker, muskier. Probably Hannibal.

A throat cleared and Newton whirled around to see Hannibal holding a book. Newton’s cheeks burned, and he didn’t have to be suffering from amnesia to know that sniffing a man’s sheets wasn’t exactly normal. 

“Here, kid.” 

Hannibal tossed the book over to him. Newton caught it and he noticed that the pages were soft, worn down at the edges. He flipped open the book and on the title page was a lipstick print and a phone number. Scrawled under it was: _Call me sometime, big guy._

Newt pressed his lips against the mark experimentally. It felt right—his lips made that shape. He smiled and Hannibal spoke again, his voice soft. 

“It was the top of the best seller list for four weeks, until Hermann’s got published.” 

The dedication page wasn’t loaded down with names, poems, or quotes. Newton wasn’t sure how that made him feel. Instead, it just said: _For you, Mom. And a special thanks for Hermy, thanks for taking a chance in the Drift with me!_

The words felt… familiar in a hazy way. Like they were lines from a film or book that he read a long time ago. 

::::

Newton read the book like it was a lifeline. He read it as Hannibal arranged for a plane to take Hermann back to London, he read it as Hermann said goodbye, giving him a tight hug with the promise that he _will call_ daily. Newton sat on the bed and read.

It all sounded so… fantastic. It sounded like a big science fiction summer blockbuster, not reality. He didn’t even realize that he’d been on the bed for hours until Hannibal turned on the lights, making him blink.

“You’re gonna go blind if you read in the dark.” 

Newton was up to the third Kaiju attack and he didn’t want to stop reading. The sketches (he apparently provided in the book) were tantalizing. They must have learned so much from them—

All thoughts of the Kaiju came to a screeching halt when Newton remembered that he was in Hannibal’s house and this was _his bed. Their bed._ Every muscle in Newton’s body tensed because there was a lot of evidence that pointed toward the conclusion that he and Hannibal were… “involved.” But he still wasn’t ready—because his head felt empty and nothing felt familiar—

“No offense, kid, but you look like you could use a shower.” 

That startled a breathy giggle out of Newton and he nodded. Hannibal jerked his head to the side, toward a door that connected to the bedroom. 

“Bathroom’s over here.” 

Newton folded the page’s corner and put it down on the bed, following Hannibal as he held open the door for Newton. As soon as Newton stepped in… his mouth fell open. It wasn’t so much a bathroom as it was a bath- _palace_. The sink was humungous and the mirror seemed to stretch on for miles. The shower was seventy-five percent of the room with at least five showerheads. 

Hannibal twisted the knobs, starting the water in the shower. 

“It’s all labeled so you can figure out the temperature you want.” Steam already began to gather and Hannibal still hadn’t taken off his sunglasses. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He left and Newton exhaled, relieved. He locked the door and stripped off his clothes that were, admittedly, super rank. There were stains on them, sweat and blood. Newton studied himself in the mirror—at the tattoos that were apparently full body. They were of the Kaiju—he knew that now. But he grabbed at his stomach, at his legs and arms—it was strange to see them. He had a few cuts on his face, one under his red eye, and another large gash on his right cheek.

When he finally got around to stepping under the water, he was surprised to find that Hannibal had gotten the temperature of the water to be perfect.

::::

By the time Newton emerged from the shower, he’d gained no additional memories. He shivered in his towel and opened the door connecting back to Hannibal’s bedroom. The light was on, but Hannibal was under the covers, snoring lightly. On the other side of the bed (was it Newton’s side?) were shorts and a white t-shirt. They were too small to be Hannibal’s. He stared at Hannibal’s face, finally rid of those sunglasses—and he looked a lot less intimidating with them on. He saw a scar slashed across his left eye and Newton averted his eyes. 

Newton quickly slipped into them, his eyes trained on Hannibal, waiting for Hannibal to open his eyes, to leer at him. Hannibal just snored on. Newton pulled back the covers slightly and sat on the very edge of the bed. He continued to read until his eyes refused to stay open, until he could hear Hong Kong waking up. 

His heart pounded hard in his chest as he read the words that he’d written, it felt right to hear them spoken in his own voice.

_Luckily Stacker had an… outside source. I’d been used to the slim pickings of Kaiju organs we grabbed from recent kills, but they’d been sparse. But I needed a fresh brain to Drift with—and apparently this source could hook us up._

_I won’t write the name of our helper. But I will say thank you, for without them, the world wouldn’t be saved and Hermann and I wouldn’t have almost died saving it._

Newton passed out around that part of the book. He felt bad about not even turning off the light. 

He woke up hours later, alone, with the book placed on the side table and the covers tucked up to his shoulders. He stretched in the bed and found more clothes laid out for him, this time where Hannibal had been sleeping hours before. 

Newton thought that if he slept, he’d wake up refreshed, with all his memories back. 

His head was still empty, but at least he had a clean set of clothes. 

::::

The outer room had transformed overnight. It was still luxurious and lavish, but it was filled with organs—things that couldn’t be from any creature on earth. Newton was suddenly wide awake. 

“Are those Kaiju organs?” His voice cracked and everyone in the room turned to stare at him. He recognized the shaved-head-lady, and Hannibal was there, too. He had his sunglasses back on. “Oh man, oh man—I read about them all last night—I, I—”

Newton had his own book in his hand, and he flipped through the pages, to the diagrams and labels that he’d written. He pressed his hand against a tank that contained a Kaiju liver, perfectly in tact. 

“How did you keep them for so long? Why—why do you have them?” Newton flipped through his book because they were transporting a whole case of scales and—and skin louses. Newton felt his fingers jerk, as if they were remembering scribbling down all the notes that were in the book. “Where did you get these? Do you have more?”

There was so much to see and Newton didn’t have the time, his eyes kept jumping from one place to the next, his mind grasping at loose strands of data in his head. He rushed from one organ to the next, the name of it falling from his lips before he even looked at the drawings in his book. His veins hummed with a passion that blurred his vision. 

“Easy, kid.” Hannibal placed one hand on Newton’s shoulder and had a handkerchief in his other hand. “Let’s take a walk.”

Hannibal kept trying to push the cloth to Newton’s face and at first Newton panicked, thinking Hannibal was trying to knock him out—but then he realized that Hannibal was dabbing at his nose. When Hannibal pulled the cloth back, the white cotton had been stained red.

“Am I bleeding?” Hannibal steered Newton out of the room. He kept touching his nose and sure enough blood, still clung to his nostrils. Hannibal directed him to some stairs and the door slammed heavy behind them as they walked down, down, spiraling down. “Why am I bleeding?”

The stairs ended so quickly that Newton tripped. Hannibal’s strong hand on his shoulder kept Newton on his feet. 

“Couldn’t tell ya. Ever since you and Hermann Drifted, it happens from time to time.” He pressed the handkerchief to Newton’s nose again and Newton grabbed the cloth quickly, figuring that Hannibal didn’t want to babysit. Hannibal’s hand hovered awkwardly in the air before he retracted it, shoving it into his pocket. “This is your private lab. It won’t be so… busy down here.”

Newton looked up—and holy Jesus, he had his own lab. 

Amber light from at least thirty large tubes illuminated the room, filled with Kaiju organs and specimens. Newton felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. His Adam’s apple bobbed and his legs shook as he took a few steps forward, not knowing where to go first. 

His fingers jerked erratically over the glass, and his eyes counted all the organs and he knew—he _knew_ there was only one explanation for how Hannibal could still be so flush in Kaiju parts. 

“You’re cloning them.” Newton turned, his cheeks hot and his heart thudding hard in his chest. He licked his lips, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Cloning, of course—”

“No.” Hannibal smiled; his glasses reflecting Newton’s stunned expression right back at him mockingly. “ _You_ clone them.”

Newton whirled back around to stare at the specimens, at these clones. He felt a detached pride for himself—for this other him who apparently was a genius enough to recreate an alien species. He laughed once, then twice, sharp barks of disbelief because the cloning theory seemed simple but to actually execute it, and on such a large scale—

He grinned.

“I’m a genius… I’m a goddamn genius.”

This time when he turned around, Hannibal was grinning too, his gold teeth shimmering in the liquid light. Hot blood trickled down from Newton’s nose, but he was too distracted by that smile to care. 

::::

_“No, absolutely not, Newton, that is a terrible idea,”_ Hermann’s voice crackled across Newton’s laptop, the video stream only a little choppy. Newton bit his tongue between his lips, scribbling in his notebook, surrounded by various powders and dried bits of Kaiju in sample jars. _“You can’t trust a man like Hannibal, Newton.”_

Newton rolled his eyes. 

“I’m not trusting Hannibal, I’m trusting science. Big difference.” Newton shrugged. “Besides, how long have I been with him?” Newton blinked. “Wait, do you know?”

Hermann frowned, like him not knowing one thing could ruin his entire day. 

_“Approximately… seven years.”_ Newton’s eyebrows flew up because _wow_ , seven years, that was… not just a one-night-stand. _“But I don’t know when you two started to…”_

Newton waggled his eyebrows. 

“Become _involved_?” Hermann scowled and Newton laughed. “Oh my God, you’re such a prude.”

Hermann opened his mouth, as if to retort, to start old arguments, ones that Newton had forgotten. He stopped, swallowed, and then spoke. 

_“You… you seem like you remember. It’s strange. But I know you still… have no memory.”_

Newton’s hand stilled on the page, his smile thinning at the corners. 

“I… I get… impressions? It’s nothing solid, just a feeling sometimes.” Newton dragged his fingers through his hair, pulling at it because the frustration gnawed away at him from day to day. “But I don’t know _for sure_ , because I _can’t remember_.” Hermann’s throat clicked and Newton pushed on. “That’s why I’m going to tinker with Hannibal’s Alzheimer’s recipe. I bet that with the right additions, I can give my brain a little boost, you know?”

Hermann sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

_“You’re not young anymore, Newton, be careful. Don’t try and do it all in one go.”_ Newton nodded and continued to take notes. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Hermann spoke back up. _“Would you like to spend Christmas with us, Newton?”_ When Newt made a face thinking about a house full of Gottliebs and in-laws Hermann continued quickly. _“Just Vanessa, Albion, you, and myself.”_ Newt felt his cheeks turn pink because the names, he grasped at the smoky memories in his brain that kept escaping him. Hermann swallowed. _“Vanessa is my wife, Albion is our daughter.”_

Newton looked at the screen, his glasses sliding down his nose. 

“Um… yeah. Right. That’d be great. I’d love to… if you don’t mind having me.”

Hermann smiled. 

_“It’s no trouble at all.”_

Newton closed his computer and got back to work. He measured out the powders and then stirred them together in water. He wondered, not for the first time, if he was pushing his luck. 

That night, after his shower, he took the solution and poured a bit of it into a gold shot glass. Hannibal sat on the bed, his glasses off, and stared at Newton. 

“What’s that?”

Newton bit the inside of his cheek, swirling the shot glass. 

“This is… a variation of your Alzheimer’s mixture. I’m _hoping_ it’s going to kick my brain into gear, get some solid memories out of me.” 

He licked his lips, his heart thudding in his chest. Hannibal straightened on the bed. 

“Is it safe?”

Newton shrugged. 

“Not sure.” He met Hannibal’s eyes, not flinching away from the milky-white hue of the injured one. “You gonna stop me?”

Hannibal shook his head, his smile looking strange and dim in the dark. 

“Never could.”

Newton didn’t know what to do with that… so he did the shot. It tasted awful and he clasped his hands over his lips to keep himself from spitting it back up. He choked it down and felt it burn all the way down his throat. He coughed a bit and stumbled to the bed, sitting on it as his shoulders quivered. 

When he finally could open his eyes again Hannibal’s hand, was on his back, soft, delicate, and Newton’s head spun as he tried to remember if such a touch was normal between them. All he got was the same blank, dark void that had taken house in his brain. 

Without turning to look at Hannibal, Newton twisted to turn off the light. 

::::

_A monster—a terrifying monster roared at him, gulping down Hannibal like he was crouton. Newton had been so frightened—he’d always said he wanted to see a Kaiju up close, and he’d been so wrong. He didn’t want to see them, he wanted it to go away, because he was going to die, it was so close—_

_He saw his mother—his sweet caring mother gently washing his knees after Big Bully Brian at the end of the block had pushed him down._

_He saw MIT, he saw his hands shaking with the thrill of information, of learning more, more, MORE._

_He saw the war, the breach clock, he saw Hermann, he saw Stacker—he saw the Kaiju baby and it was right there—he saw it dying and he knew he needed that brain. That was when he saw the Drift._

Newt woke up with blood pouring out of his nose and his hip throbbing painfully. He grimaced and realized that he was on the shower floor, and cold water pelted his skin. He gurgled.

“Urghle.” 

“I’m no expert.” Hannibal’s voice reverberated off the walls and Newt felt him touch his ankle, “but I don’t think that’s a word in English or German, bub.” The water shut off and Hannibal hoisted Newt up. “That must have been one hell of a nightmare.” 

Newt shook his head, flinging water everywhere. 

“Not a nightmare,” he grinned and tasted blood. “Memories.”

Hannibal’s eyes widened, even the milky-white one. Newton smiled, shivering because that water had been freezing. 

“Not all of them. A lot. Man, it was like the Drift—I remembered that! Holy shit, was I nuts or what? And the Kaiju—and you were eaten! I remember that. How did you survive? Isn’t their blood like acid? How is your face not melted right now?” 

Hannibal’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment he had the dopiest smile on his face. It was so open, so genuine, that it seemed strange to see it on Hannibal’s lips. Newton had to look away, because he still wasn’t the Newt that was privileged to see those kinds of smiles from Hannibal. He was still empty. 

Luckily, his eyes caught his reflection and that was enough to distract himself from Hannibal’s warm smile. 

“Holy shit!” Newt’s hands flew up to his hair, to the small streaks of grey. “I’m old! Oh God, I’m old!” 

Hannibal rolled his eyes, grunting as he knocked Newt’s hands away from his hair and pulled out some gauze from under the sink to wrap it around Newt’s knee and hip. 

That night, Hannibal didn’t say on his side of the bed. His big arms came out and pulled Newton close so that his back was snug against Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal went right to sleep, like that was something that they did now. 

Newt squeezed his eyes shut and scrunched up his nose, trying to force some more memories back into his head. It didn’t work and he ended up with a raging migraine that kept him up for hours. 

::::

Hannibal and Hermann ganged up on him and had him drastically decrease the doses of his memory-come-back-medicine. Newt opened his mouth to protest and Hannibal snapped, his lips pulling back into a terrifying snarl. 

“Deal with the fact that you’re old and some people actually give a shit about you! Common sense might be hard for you to grasp kid, but do us all a favor and try not to kill yourself, got it?”

Hannibal slammed out of Newton’s lab and Hermann hoarsely replied over Skype, _“I have to admit, I agree with him.”_

So Newt decreased the doses. Just five drops a night. 

The memories come back much slower, but they also don’t jerk Newt awake with his heart pounding and screams lodged in his throat. He figured that was a plus. Instead, he got them slowly, mostly mundane, everyday things. What his mom made him when he was sick, meeting Hermann for the first time (ah, the first of many fights), Stacker moving them around, following the bloodshed. 

Still, nothing more about Hannibal. His fingers twitched around the glass every night, knowing that if he did another shot like he did the first time that he’d likely gain some insight about how Hannibal and him ended up together—and just what their relationship was exactly. Hannibal wouldn’t tell him. 

“You shouldn’t trust anyone, Newton.” It was late, in the dark of Hannibal’s bedroom (or was it theirs), and Newton found the courage to ask Hannibal what they were to each other. “You’ve got a blank slate,” Hannibal’s finger came out from the dark and touched Newt’s forehead gently. “You know how many people would kill for a person like that? Someone they get to manipulate? Shape into anything they wanted?” Hannibal’s finger left, it sort of… dragged over his skin. “Only trust yourself, kid, and what you remember. Not what anyone else tells you.”

Newt had swallowed and nodded even though Hannibal couldn’t see him. He dreamt of nothing that night. He just tossed and turned. 

::::

_Giant hands ripped at Newton’s shirt and a hot mouth was sucking a mean, sexy bruise on the side of his neck. His jeans were sliding down around his thighs, his underwear quickly yanked down and—and—_

_Oh yes, finally—_

_Newt’s legs wrapped around Hannibal’s waist. He arched his back, not caring when his head hit the wall because his cock was grinding against Hannibal’s and it felt so damned good. His heart beat up high in his throat and Hannibal grinned against his throat._

_“Come on, you can’t tell me you’re quiet during sex when you’re constantly running your mouth, kid.”_

_White-hot blood rushed to Newt’s cheeks and he shivered._

_“But—but your thugs… henchman… guys, whatever—they’ll hear us.”_

_They were in the main Kaiju preservation room and Hannibal was pressing Newt against the wall, holding him up, Newt’s ankles bobbing in the air. His breath caught in his throat because Hannibal’s hand stroked them both._

_“So?” His teeth grazed over Newt’s throat as he thrust against him once. “Come on, Newton, I want to hear you.”_

_The next thrust made Newton’s eyes roll up into his head because geez it’d been so long. He hiccupped around a moan and Hannibal growled and kept thrusting. After each thrust—Newt kept trying to remember how he got there. About how he had finally drafted up the schematics for a lab he’d need for cloning, and how he’d be able to clone the Kaiju so that Hannibal would never be out of business and Newt would always have new material to work with._

_He remembered Hannibal’s smile and Newt’s response being an exasperated, “come on, you keep looking at me like that—are we going to have celebratory sex or what?”_

_And so Hannibal pinned Newt against the wall right there, with his thugs waiting outside (the ones that could come in at any moment), and had both of their cocks in his hand as he thrust wildly against Newton. It was savage and Newt’s thighs quaked as his toes went numb, a euphoric jolt shooting down his spine._

_“Oh God, Hannibal, I’m coming, Hannibal I’m—”_

Newton jerked awake as his cock pulsed, creating an embarrassing, sticky mess in his boxers. His cheeks were red and luckily he was alone. His throat was dry and he swallowed before awkwardly throwing off the sheets. 

He washed his boxers in the sink and blew out a breath. On the plus side—finally he had a memory of Hannibal that didn’t involve him getting chewed on by the baby Kaiju. On the down side… it was going to be really hard to hear him growl again without getting a little hard. 

::::

Newt hastily threw some shirts and pants into a suitcase because he’d left it until the last minute. Hannibal watched him lug it down to his lab to cram in a few notebooks that still had free pages. The entire complex was bustling and Hannibal had been talking in Cantonese most of the time. Newt hadn’t even known he was following Newt until he cleared his throat.

“Got everything, kid?”

Newt didn’t jump, let out a surprised shout, and flail so badly he almost knocked over one of his beakers. Nope, that didn’t happen, Hannibal was just smirking to be an asshole. 

“Uh, I think so.” Newt scratched his head. “Yeah, I mean, if I don’t, I’ll just come home in some grandpa clothes I stole from Hermann.” He grabbed a separate bag of gifts, most of them for Albion. “I’m ready. I guess.”

The wind was cold, biting at his skin as Hannibal’s private plane turned on the strip. The bald woman (he now knew her as Kae-lin) stood with him and Newton bounced on his feet, teeth chattering. 

Warm material covered his shoulders; and Hannibal had taken off his jacket. He was wearing those awful sunglasses and Newt needed to see his eyes to know what his smile meant. 

“If I send you sick to Hermann, he’ll kill me.” 

Newt laughed because it was true. He watched Hannibal button the jacket for him. 

“Are you gonna miss me?” 

In his head, it had sounded playful, but once it left Newt’s lips, it turned into something soft, something that made Kae-lin take a respectful step back as she pretended not to listen. Hannibal had a half-smile on his face and Newt really wanted to know if he was being laughed at or not. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna miss you.” 

The wind blew Newt’s hair wildly and his cheeks stung from the cold. He grabbed the lapels of Hannibal’s and pulled him down but missed his mouth, instead kissing his chin. Hannibal lowered his head, his hand cupping Newt’s cheek and he had time to register just how warm Hannibal’s hand was before he was being kissed. Properly. 

It was… chaste. Strange because as Newt’s returning memories showed, their relationship was pretty sexual and not the kind where they held hands and stared into each other eyes. Fucking against the wall? Yeah, that they did. 

Maybe Hannibal was feeling generous that day. His thumb trailed down Newt’s cheek before he pulled back, Newton’s lips quivering because he didn’t want the kiss to end so soon.

“Stay warm. Tell Hermann I said hello.”

And then Newton was on the plane, heading for London. His fingers kept tracing his lips, hoping that such a gentle kiss would call back memories of similar kisses. 

By the time he had landed, Newt had no new revelations and was pouting, but once he saw Hermann, Vanessa, and Albion, he forgot all about his woes. Albion had wild, wavy hair like her mother and her eyes glimmered as Newt ducked down to hug her. 

“So, Dad says you have brain damage.” 

Hermann hissed, his cheeks red.

“ _Albion_!”

Albion smiled and Newt wondered if it was possible for a ten-year-old to be snarky. He pinched her side, making her shriek and laugh. 

“You know it. Partied too hard, so take note and behave when you go to college. Just say no to drugs.” 

Albion smiled but then hugged him again, this time tighter. 

“You’re okay though, right?”

Newt nodded. Albion slid out of his arms so that Vanessa could kiss his cheek. 

“It’s good to see you, Newton.” Newton smiled because his throat was dry. It always happened when he was around Vanessa, because she was… beautiful. To call her hot would be disrespectful and not true… because it wasn’t just a visual beauty. She had an air about her, one that made him relax and feel thrilled all at once. When he’d Drifted with Hermann, he thought that Hermann was just in love with his wife—but that had only been a part of it. The rest was just the enigma of Vanessa. “Come on, let’s get out of the cold.” 

Vanessa and Albion led the way and Hermann cleared his throat, too polite to admit that he was smiling. Newt threw his arm around him, smiling as they walked to the car. 

::::

Newton loved spending time with Hermann and his family. He’d never say aloud that it was because he actually loved all of them as if they were a part of his own family, but he would boast it was because of their great food and warm house. Newt sank back against the chair, his stomach full of Hermann’s fantastic cooking. 

“I’m coming over every day from now on.” Newt sighed dreamily, nudging Hermann, who was still wearing an apron. “Seriously Hermann, I know you’re a math genius, but you totally missed your calling.” 

Vanessa laughed and grabbed Hermann’s hand, kissing his palm. 

“I’m so lucky to be yours, darling. I can’t cook worth a damn.”

It was clearly an inside joke because it made Hermann smile in a way that made Newton stare because Hermann looked… _happy_ as he kissed Vanessa lightly on the lips. Albion had been tucked into bed about an hour ago, and it was time for the grownups to talk. 

Hermann, Vanessa, and Newt stayed up late in the kitchen as Hermann grimaced around a cup of tea. 

“Hannibal told me that you came to your senses and have decreased your dosage. For Christ sake, Newton, it sounded like you had a stroke.”

Newt waved his hand, scoffing. 

“Relax. I’m fine, and it _worked_. Like I said, fortune favors the brave. Works every time.”

Hermann rolled his eyes and Vanessa smiled at Newt like he was a kid who kept drawing his letters backwards. 

“Seriously, Newt, are you all right? It’s great that you’re recovering your memories… but if you need a place to stay, a more… docile environment, you always have a place here.”

Newt wasn’t an idiot. He knew what they were both talking around, what they both were too polite to say. He warmed his hands on his cup of tea and played with the slight chip on the rim. 

“I don’t think… I know this sounds crazy, but I don’t think Hannibal is that bad of a guy—not in the way you think. I mean, yeah he’s a total criminal and lord of the Hong Kong underworld but—he’s… I don’t know, I get these glimpses, these feelings that we’re not just fuck buddies.” 

Hermann’s face turned red while Vanessa’s eyebrows rose. Newt floundered a bit, gesturing wildly with his hands as he chattered on. 

“Like, I know that because I’ve been spending time with the guy that sure, I’m bound to be bias to an extent, but… I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like a casual situation. I mean, if it were, I would have been with you guys because… I mean you guys matter more than a casual hook-up. And my stuff is in Hannibal’s bedroom, a lot of stuff like pictures of me and my mom—and everything smells like me and him. That sounds weird, but you know how smells can be familiar? That’s… that’s what it smells like. Familiar… even though I don’t remember.” Newt pulled at his hair lightly. “I’ve had tons of memories of me and him having sex in all sorts of places and ways—but nothing more but I can feel it there, it’s so close—”

Newt stopped because Hermann’s cheeks were red and Vanessa’s lips were pulled back into an embarrassed smile. He paused and scratched the back of his head. 

“I’m… uh, sorry for… over sharing.” 

That night, in the privacy of the guest bedroom, Newt called Hannibal, not even bothering to calculate the time difference. When Hannibal answered promptly with no remark about the time Newt just added it to the evidence that their relationship was not purely physical. He just wanted to know how deeply in it he was. 

“Hey. Just calling to say… hi, I guess.”

Hannibal chuckled and all the little amounts of stress that had been building up gradually all that day immediately left Newt’s body. He sank back against the pillows that smelled clean and homey. Not at all like Hannibal’s bedroom. 

_“Hello. How are the Gottliebs?”_

“Good, good. Albion is like… a real person. I wish I remembered what she was like when she was young.”

_“A real firecracker.”_

Newt wanted to ask if Hannibal met her, if Hermann had allowed it. He swallowed the question and instead smiled. 

“I’ll bet. So how’s my lab? Has it descended into chaos? Is Kae-lin begging me to come back so that your empire doesn’t fall apart?”

Newt knew he was pushing it, that he was acting too familiar for someone who didn’t remember it. He listened for annoyance over the line, but instead he just got a daily report. 

_“Nah. We’ve got it under control. Your directions are very thorough, you made sure to be very thorough so that I could understand—”_

Hannibal stopped suddenly, like he realized that he’d said too much. Newt didn’t whine for him to go on even though he wanted to. Instead he smiled into the phone. 

“I’m pregnant with an amazing food baby. Just thought I’d let you know.”

They both laughed and it felt right. 

::::

_He was standing in his lab, the private lab, brand new and already teaming with experiments. He rubbed his eyes and refused to yawn because there was progress to make, and he didn’t want to sleep because sleep slowed him down. He reached for his cup of cold coffee only to hit air because his cup was gone._

_Newt blinked and straightened abruptly because his cup had been right there. His hands swept over his papers, feeling for any hard spots among his notes in case it had been buried—_

_“Lookin’ for this?”_

_Newt whirled around to see Hannibal holding the cup in his giant hand, making it look like a teacup instead of a full-sized mug._

_“Hey! Give that back, I need more caffeine. I’m close to a breakthrough here.”_

_Hannibal yanked the mug out of Newt’s reach when he went to grab for it, his other hand going to Newt’s cheek, stroking his temple._

_“You already had the breakthrough, kid, you figured out how to clone the Kaiju, how to keep business boomin’.” Newt rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort when Hannibal’s thick index finger slid down to Newt’s lips. “When was the last time you slept?”_

_Newt was about to retort that he slept yesterday—except he hadn’t. Well, no matter, who hadn’t pulled all-nighters… but wait, no, he’d told himself that three days ago._

_Oh._

_Hannibal smirked when he saw Newt’s face fall. He was surprised he hadn’t hurt himself. He just hoped his notes were coherent. He was about to turn around and check when Hannibal put down the mug and pulled Newt close. His lips pressed against Newt’s cheek, then his forehead, before moving to his other cheek, and coming to a rest at the corner of his left eye._

_Newt’s eyes closed and exhaustion hit him like a train once his eyelids didn’t immediately spring up._

_“Hey.” Newt slurred, his hands pushing at Hannibal even though they both knew he didn’t want Hannibal to stop. “I know what you’re doing. You keep getting me to close my eyes—you’re bullying me into sleep.”_

_Then he was being kissed, for real that time, on the mouth and everything. It made him smile and sway on his feet because—yeah, five days with no sleep._

_“Come on, kid. Bed.”_

_Newt nodded, and when he opened his eyes he was on the bed already, Hannibal tugging off one of his shoes._

_“Wait—did I sleep? We were just in the lab—” Newt jerked up, his eyes wide. “Oh God, did you carry me? Did you carry me—did Kae-lin see? Oh god, she saw didn’t she? She’s never going to let me live this down.”_

_Hannibal laughed and didn’t answer any of Newt’s questions. Instead he tugged off Newt’s other shoe and unbuckled his belt, gently pulling off Newt’s pants. Newt wiggled his hips a little and smiled with Hannibal. Hannibal tugged on Newt’s left hand until it was by his mouth, his gold teeth pressing against Newton’s ring finger._

_Without a word Newton mirrored the action, pulling on Hannibal’s left hand. He kissed Hannibal’s ring finger, right over the mark—only there was no mark, only skin—but there was a nudge in his brain that said Newt’s observation was wrong. There was something there. Something important, because Hannibal kissed Newton’s finger tenderly because he saw it too—_

Newt jerked awake. He didn’t know that it was six in the morning and that the only person awake was Vanessa—he didn’t care. He just thundered down the stairs in only his boxers and tank-top even though it was freezing. He skidded to a halt in the kitchen to see Vanessa. 

“Vanessa!” Newt licked his lips as she turned away from the coffee pot, dressed in a robe and her hair a frizzy halo around her head. “Do you have a black light?” 

Vanessa rubbed her eyes and yawned. 

“What?”

“A black light? Do you or Hermann have one?” 

Vanessa shrugged and shuffled to her and Hermann’s bedroom, opening the door. Newt was close behind and saw Hermann stretch, some of the buttons on his shirt popped open as he turned. 

“Newt—how are you up this early?”

“I have a theory, I need to test it out. I need a black light.” 

Hermann pointed to his desk, yawning and Newt and Vanessa hurried to it, opening up the drawers until a penlight caught Newt’s eye. Hermann hobbled over to them as Newt picked up the penlight. Hermann shook his head. 

“That’s not it.” Hermann dug around and Newt made a mental note to mock Hermann for his clutter. Hermann pulled out a dark blue bulb. “I’ll replace the bulb here—hold on.”

Hermann unscrewed the bulb in their room. Vanessa slid her arms around Hermann’s sides and she rested her head on his shoulder, kissing his cheek as he changed the bulb in their lamp, the light flickering out before coming back on again in that strange blue hue.

Newt blinked. Vanessa’s shirt and teeth glowed because they were so white and Hermann’s buttons were a part of the glowing party as well. Then Newton stuck his hands under the light. 

Vanessa and Hermann stilled. Newt stared down at the glowing ink on his skin, ink that he couldn’t see in normal light but stood out strong under the blue bulb.

An intricate band of ink wrapped around Newt’s ring finger, a fusion of Hannibal’s symbol and something else—Newt squinted. It was his name. Newt’s name was fused with the symbol. Newt smiled even though his throat was bone dry.

“See. I told you.”

::::

Kae-lin opened the door to Hannibal’s fortress without preamble. Newt had a black light pen in his hand and he walked past the bustling crew—he knew half of their names now—and found Hannibal on the balcony. 

“Hey.” 

Newt pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Hannibal had his glasses on and he smiled, his teeth flashing gold. 

“How was your holiday—?”

Newt grabbed Hannibal’s left hand. Hannibal let him, and it was only when Newt produced his pocket black light that Hannibal’s fingers twitched. He turned it on—and sure enough Hannibal had a matching tattoo. Newt laughed because he _knew it_ , Hermann didn’t believe him and _he knew it_. 

Hannibal’s fingers brushed the back of Newt’s neck and Newt smiled. When they kissed, everyone around them didn’t stop and stare because it was normal. And when Newt pulled Hannibal closer but accidentally bumped Hannibal’s chin because being short sucked—Hannibal laughed. 

_It’s good to have you back, Newton._

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man. This was an experience. I hope you guys enjoy this even though everyone and their mother have written amnesia fic. 
> 
> A huge thanks goes out to Rendianami, my beta. She's amazing and has amazing suggestions that help me improve every time. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
> 
> Criticism and Comments are love!


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